A Scandal In Baltania
A Scandal In Baltania is one of Ultraman Sherlock and Alien Quraso Watson's adventures. It is an obvious parody of "A Scandal In Bohemia" by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Sypnosis The King of Planet Baltan(aka Baltania) is about to get married. However, an alien whom the king previously had an affair with, threatens to send a photo that they had both been in, to the news. The reason was to ruin the marraige. Ultraman Sherlock and Dr. Watson have to get it back. Somehow. Story The woman. The woman. I have seldom heard Ultraman Sherlock, mention her by any other name. It was a sort of admiration he had for very few people, well, other than himself. Despite what it might seem, he did not feel love for her, as he never did for anyone. And yet there was but one Woman to my coldly rational friend, and that woman was the late Irene Atler. I had been staying in the interstellar city of Nalgent for quite a while now, since the time of A Study in King Joe Scarlet. After my marriage, I had not been visiting Sherlock very often. I was strolling home after seeing a patient one day, when I passed by my old lodgings on Baker Street. Sherlock was upstairs and he was walking to and fro in front of the window. I knew immediately that he had a new case on his hands. I rang the doorbell and soon enough, my Ultraman friend opened the door. "Why, if it isn't Doctor Watson? I think that you have put on seven and a half pounds since I last saw you," Sherlock remarked. "Seven! Seven! Seven!" I rebuked rather defensively. "Yeah, yeah," the Ultra replied. "You did not tell me that you have returned to your medical practice." I used to be an army doctor of the Quarso Military stationed on my planet when a war broke out. I had been shot in the shoulder by the invading Alien Magma forces and had to stop my practice. But now, I had in fact returned to treating patients, so I was amazed by Sherlock's words. "I know these details from your appearance, just as I understand that you have gotten a little soaked lately.” "This is too much! You would certainly have been burnt if you lived a few centuries ago! I did get rained on when I went for a walk that day. But how did you guess?" Sherlock laughed and answered to my look rather than my words, "I didn't guess, I knew. Your left shoe has six almost-parallel cuts caused by something awkwardly scrubbing mud off—hence, I knew of your walk in wet weather, the remaining dried mud on your shoe confirms that. Also, you smell of iodoform, used for disinfection, and nitrate of silver, a treatment for eye infections, most oftenly used on Gan Qs. Your hat has a bulge at where you carry your stethoscope. I would have to be a fool not to know that you were a practicing doctor." Partially stunned, I answered, "My eyes are as good as yours, and your deductions seem fairly obvious after you explain your thought process; yet I can never seem to recreate your method on my own." "Just tell me, how often have you seen the steps which lead up from the hall to this room?" "Some hundreds of times." "Then how many are there?" "How many? I don't know." "Precisely! You have not observed. And yet you have seen. That is just my point. Now, I know that there are seventeen steps, because I have both seen and observed. By the way, you may be interested in this." Sherlock threw over a sheet of thick, pink-tinted note-paper which had been lying open upon the table. The note was undated, and with neither signature nor address. "There will call upon you tonight, at a quarter to eight o'clock," it said, "a gentleman who desires to consult you upon a matter of the very deepest moment. You are one who may safely be trusted with matters which are of an importance which can hardly be exaggerated. Be in your chamber then at that hour, and do not take it amiss if your visitor wear a mask." The paper that the letter was written on seemed to be of premium quality. "PB" was printed in the top right corner. Sherlock said that it stood for Planet Baltan. Our visitor soon drove to our doorstep in a car-sized Builgamo, a robot manufactured on Planet Baltan. It was covered with a layer of gold. He was probably quite rich. As the person came into our room, we saw that he was dressed in a richly and was in huge colourful coat which hid all his features. His clothes seemed almost too rich. He announced himself as Count von Krabb, in between several low bursts of laughter. His face was hidden by a massive strange black mask, which he asked us to excuse. "I was employed by someone of great importance. He does not want you to trace his identity. So you must forgive me for telling you a made-up name," our visitor spoke, “it is a very scandalous issue at hand which may seriously implicate the monarchy of Planet Baltan.” “I was aware of that. Now, please state your case, your Baltanic majesty,” Sherlock commented. The Count jumped up in agitation and tore off his mask. "You are right! I am the king! I shouldn't have bothered to hide myself." "And now, would you care to state your case?" "The circumstances are such, Ultraman Sherlock. Five years ago, on a trip to Planet Atler, I met a pretty alien named Irene Atler, a famous adventuress and we…got engaged.” “Irene Atler…ah…yes,” Sherlock looked her up on his computer, born on Planet Atler, former opera singer, now lives in city of Nalgent.” “Your Majesty, as I understand, became entangled with this young person, sent her some compromising texts or emails, and want them back now.” “Precisely so. But how did you—” “I don't suppose you used your official email address and phone number?” “I used private ones. So that no one can trace them to me” “Then I fail to follow your Majesty. If this young person should produce your messages for blackmailing or other purposes, how is she to prove their authenticity?” “My writing style.” “Easily imitated.” “My private email address and phone number.” “Hacked. Moreover, you yourself said you used your private address to make it hard to trace.” “My photographs.” “Photographs? Easily downloaded online for someone as famous as you.” “We were both in those photographs.” “Photoshopped?” “Of course not. She would get experts to authenticate it and then I'm doomed! Indeed it wasn't a very serious relationship, but just that one photograph is needed to prove…the affair. I have tried to get the photo back, through burglary, taking her luggage, and approaching her directly, but all attempts have failed!" "Why do you suddenly want the photos back now?" "Because I am about to get married now. Atler has threatened to release the photos publicly on the day of my marriage, just to ruin me! Now those photos are stored in her hard drive which she keeps in some secret place. I will give you any amount of money you may please," the king placed several gold bars on the table, "just help me get those pictures back!" The king then provided us with Irene Atler's address in Nalgent, before setting off on the gold Buligamo. ---- On the next day, I called in on our Baker Street apartment, but Mrs Hudson, our elderly Alien Pitt landlady informed me that Sherlock had gone out. So, I sat in an armchair and waited for him to return. In half an hour, an Ultraman in the worse possible shape entered the room. He looked drunken and ill. I knew Sherlock's habit of disguising himself, but I had to look again to make sure it was him. Sherlock slumped down on a chair and laughed hysterically. "I've visited Briony Lodge in disguise, where Irene Atler stays in her luxurious villa. Some cabbies who work nearby told me they often bring her only male visitor to and from the house. His name is Mr Godley Norton. I wondered who he could be. Acquaintance? Friend? No he wouldn't visit that ofen. A lover? Yes. Yes.” "A minute later, a well-dressed, handsome Alien Godley arrived at the villa in a cab. I knew he was obviously Norton. He entered the house, later bringing Atler out of the house with him. They hopped on the same cab and headed to a church. "I trailed them all the way. When they reached their destination, I continued spying on them, but by the most remarkable chance, Godley saw me and they asked me to be their best man for their marriage! "That is why I am laughing so much now. They even gave me a gold coin for witnessing their marriage, which I shall keep as a souvenir. Well, right after that, they headed separate ways and agreed to meet at the park at 5pm. Watson, if you don't mind, come with me to Briony Lodge in two hours, at 7:00PM. One of your specialities is to breathe fire, if I am not mistaken. That would do us a huge favour. ” “Well, certainly I can, but not in Nalgent, I mean they have a ban on public fire-breathing you know.” “Would you mind having a brush with the law in exchange for retrieving the photograph? Besides, I think a little smoke would suffice. First, there is likely to be a commotion, please do not interfere. Then, I will get into Atler’s home. When I wave at you, be sure to blow into her house the best, most cloudy smoke breath you can muster, and shout ‘fire!’ This will cause a little…mess to ensue and you will meet me at the end of the street when that happens.” ---- We arrived at Briony Lodge about ten minutes early. A group of people crowded around the house. The neighbourhood was more animated than I expected it to be. Some Godolas were chatting, and Alien Valky dozing off, and an Alien Messie walking his pet Robonez. “You see,” remarked Sherlock, “this marriage rather simplifies matters. Those photographs become double-edged swords now. The chances are that she would be as averse to its being seen by Mr. Godfrey Norton, as our client is to its coming to the eyes of his fiance. Now the question is, Where are we to find the photograph? Did she slip it into her dress? No one does that with hard disks. She must be so secretive that it's unlikely for her to give her personal stuff to any banker or lawyer for safekeeping. I believe it is just lying in her house, probably hidden well enough for the king’s agents not to find it.” “So, how are you going to find it?” “Irene Atler herself will show me where it is.” “But...how?” At this moment, a cab stopped in front of the house and Irene prepared to alight. One of the Godolas suddenly rushed forward to assist her, wanting a small tip. The Valky nudged him away, catching the attention of the Messie, who pushed him away. They fought over who to help Irene Atler our of her cab, evidently she was very popular. As the riot escalated, I remembered what Sherlock said and resisted the urge to stop it. Sherlock himself, disguised as a priest, burst into the fight and shoved everyone away, warning them not to cause danger for the Atler. At this moment the Robonez leapt from the floor and slashed Sherlock, who fell to the ground bleeding from his face. Everyone else dispersed. Irene Atler stepped out of the cab and swiftly helped Sherlock up, offering to bring him into her mansion for a rest. If all that had been intentional, he is a genius. Since he is a genius, all that was probably intentional. Once in the house, he muttered something about needing fresh air, motioning his hand about to request Irene’s Bogar housemaid to open the window. His hand wave was what I recognised immediately. It was the signal. I blew out fumes of smoke through the window and shouted “FIRE!!!!” Sherlock repeated the call, and so did everyone down the street. The Bogar grabbed a cup of water and tried to douse the suspected fire, but splashed it on Atler, who proceeded to slip over the water. Sherlock sneaked out in time and we ran as far as possible from the scene. “I know where the hard drive is,” Ultraman Sherlock exclaimed. “How?” “When the “fire” happened, she naturally looked for her most precious items to see if they were safe. She reached behind a certain panel of the wall when the alarm was given. Clearly that is where she keeps it.” “Amazing. Are you alright after that scuffle though?” “Don't worry. Splashing on some red paint doest hurt. Those guys on the street were hired by me to put on a little show just for me to enter her house. I must say that Robonez was very well trained.” Category:Mao Wu Kong Category:Ultraman Sherlock